My third grade...

We were living in a quite country house on a couple of acres. When I was 8 and in the third grade, my life started its dramatic change. One fine Saturday morning, while cartoons were on the television, my sister and I were having a competition on who could jump the furthest by swinging in between two couches. I decided to put my ALL into the jump. I landed hard on my neck. I got up and told my siblings who were all staring at me with gaping mouths that I was alright. All of a sudden, the pain sunk in. I started screaming and had to hold my head up with my hands. I was making my way to my dad, when my little sister came running by my yelling "Erica broke her neck! Erica broke her neck!!!" My dad came tearing out of his bedroom. He instantly laid me on the floor and made sure I knew not to move. He then lifted my legs and covered me with a blanket. He called the local hospital to dispatch an ambulance because he thought his daughter broke her neck. When the paramedics arrived, I had gone through shock and just severe pain remained. They asked me to move my arm.. so I moved my left arm-the one not in pain. They laughed at me and told me to move the other one. I looked them straight in the face and said, "No!" They told my incredibly worried father that they believed it was only a clavicle break. They took me by ambulance 30 minutes into Duluth, MN to the main hospital where my doctor was waiting for me. The x-ray technician made me sit up to put the film under my right shoulder. I cried out in pain as I had to lay on that stupid, cold, hard film. THEN they made me sit back up after the x-ray was taken. The doctor came in and stated that my right collar bone was completely broken and that I was lucky the bone had not poked through my skin. They sent me home with just a brace that I was to wear for a very long time and instructed me that if I did not maintain proper posture, my bone would be completely crooked. When I walked from the car into my house, I felt like I had to watch where my feet went otherwise I was sure to fall and break the other collar bone. My older brother made fun of my relentlessly until I had to pretend to not look down while I was around him. That year in school, I had the meanest, most strict, most evil teacher ever. We ALL had one of those teachers at some point in time in which everyone knew they were the worst, and there was no way to avoid them. So when I returned after taking a couple of days, that specific teacher was standing in the doorway... just waiting for me. Amazingly, she smiled. I had someone help me out of my jacket and put my things in my desk. Later that week, when my jacket had fallen onto the ground, instead of her usual punishment, she had someone else go and hang it up again for me. She was actually a sort of decent person to me. To everyone else, she was the devil. A month or so later, I had gotten used to not having to look at my feet in order to walk so I had ran an errand to the office for my teacher. As I was making my way up the stairs, I slipped on some melted snow at the very top and went tumbling all the way down. I let out an ear piercing scream of pain. In 2 seconds flat, I had every adult on that floor running to my aid. There were 4 teachers and the librarian all there to pick me up, get an ice pack, and grab some tissues for my tears. After that little incident, I found it best to watch exactly where my feet were going to be stepping, regardless of how much I was made fun of. Being made fun of was a lot better than the physical pain. The rest of that year was fairly decent. I was the typical 8 year old.. chewing my pencils until they were just wood-chips; spreading elmer's glue on my hands and waiting for it to dry so I can peal it off to see my hand print; and trying to get away with as much mischief as I could, especially seeing as I was the special student of the year :D

That is, until 4th grade came... Things went for a straight dive down.